


The Shrouded Temple

by attackstance



Series: Samsara [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Historical, M/M, Minor Violence, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackstance/pseuds/attackstance
Summary: A scholar with a heart full of secrets finds absolution in the eyes of a lively young deity.





	The Shrouded Temple

_**VIII – III** _

 

“I know this responsibility may seem…unorthodox given your age, but I assure you, we’ve exhausted all other options.”

“It’s no trouble.”

“Please, don’t misunderstand. The young lord is a brilliant mind, both pragmatic and perceptive beyond his years. Recent days have been, eh…shall we say, tumultuous for him. We assume it to be adolescence. Or some ailment of its ilk.”

“I understand.”

“But I’m sure the young lord will be more receptive to one his age – you! I should thank you for meeting with us so shortly. We don’t oft seek the aid of outsiders, but the village was abundant with praise for you, young historian.”

“You praise me overmuch.”

The young lord’s retainer, Kun, is a man accustomed to lengthy oration. His arms flourish wide in couple with his speech, the swish of his gown covers the cry of the wooden slats beneath their brisk footsteps. He hasn’t taken more than a single breath since he began speaking. It’s difficult to keep his voice in mind the longer he babbles.

Jun follows behind the retainer with observant eyes on his surroundings. His path from the entrance is lost in long corridors cushioned by handwoven ikat rugs, winding stairways patterned with bright green triangles and mud-red chevrons.

This structure, the Sky Dragon Clan’s manor, stands tall in the corner of the village, nestled in the mountainside atop a pillar of pale stone. The villagers assemble in front of the manor’s steps at the rise every sun, near the crisp river basin, dressed in plain white robes as they kneel in reverence for those blessed by the Sky Dragon.

Jun has only seen the manor from afar before now. The old woman who took him in invited him once, months prior, to the village’s morning prayer – an offer extended purely of courtesy, nothing more. Jun was wise enough to decline.

“It can only be the heavens’ will that you were sent to us now, in the young lord’s hour of need. We cannot abide his willfulness in this matter.” Kun’s shoulders fall when he sighs. His efforts have likely gone long unsuccessful. “Thorough knowledge of our clan’s history is crucial to the stability of our bloodline, yet he remains indifferent. Should you get through to him, your service will be greatly rewarded.”

Kun halts and turns beside a doorway decorated with a vibrant curtain of beads skating the floor. The highs of Kun’s cheeks are speckled with glittering silver scales, and some over his left eyebrow as well. He’s smiling at Jun full of assurance and expectation, easy trust.

Jun’s throat catches when he swallows. “I’ll give it my best,” he promises and nods.

Kun’s hand squeezes Jun’s shoulder as he leaves. Jun hovers in front of the doorway for some time, hugging a collection of bamboo scrolls to his chest and evening his nerve-rattled breaths. He must encourage himself once more, as he does daily –

“I won’t fail you this time. I swear it.”

The clatter of beads announces his entrance, but the one Jun assumes is the young lord doesn’t look up. He’s lazing on his side, palm propping up his cheek. On the surface of the low table, he rolls a strange golden orb back and forth under his palm. Unlike his kinsmen, he wears a hempen shirt and trousers that gather at the ankles rather than a sweeping gown. His feet are bare and caked in grime.

Jun sits on his calves at the opposite side of the table and deposits his books on the floor. The young lord doesn’t acknowledge him, which is fine. It gives Jun the opportunity to quell his nerves, steel the quiver in his voice. He has little experience speaking with those his age, but he hadn’t told Kun this.

“I hope you’re faring well this afternoon,” Jun greets softly.

The young lord doesn’t respond.

“I’m not…sure your retainer told you. I’ll be tutoring you in the history of the exalted Sky Dragon. Please, call me Jun.”

The young lord doesn’t respond.

Jun’s brow pinches for just a moment. Kun’s warnings weren’t an overstatement. “If it’s no trouble with you, I’d like to begin with the Mohuai family’s rise to power during the era –“

“I’d rather not take lessons from a kid.”

Jun perks after hearing the jibe, then he smiles. “Actually, your retainer informed me that I’m the older of us, Min’ _er_.”

Finally, Jun has his attention. Min stares him straight with no humor. “Hilarious.”

A glimpse of his eyes is enough for Jun’s body to flinch. The clan all bear piscine scales dusted over their cheeks or the backs of their hands, blessings from Sky Dragon they wield with pride. The sleeves of Min’s shirt have been torn away, exposing irregular patches of scales down to his knuckles. Min, though, has not only the Sky Dragon’s scales but its eyes as well, more lustrous than emeralds themselves with narrow, unwavering pupils.

Without thought, Jun splays his hand over his chest. He hides the darkness from eyes that see with unearthly clarity.

“I’ll begin then.” Jun takes a book from his collection and unfurls it over the table, careful not to disturb Min’s golden orb. “This is a firsthand record of the turmoil following the First King’s passing, written by prime minister of the state of Xia at the time, Minister Zonghu. His name seal is here.” Jun taps the red stamping on the last wooden slip. Min shows no interests. “This is a bit before the Sky Dragon’s reported birth, I know, but it’s important –“

“Could you stop talking?”

“– to understand the socio-economic condition of the world the dragon was born into. The First King was known far and wide for his magnanimous nature, even amongst his adversaries. He recognized the worth of his subjects as individuals and was iron-fisted with any who threatened their wellbeing, yet –“

“How much are you being paid for this?”

“– _yet_ the same couldn’t be said of his line of successors. His eldest son, a general in the military, preferred meeting blades over diplomacy. After a peaceful rule under the First King, the people feared the eldest prince’s lust for war would lead Xia into an era of endless bloodshed. The second prince’s reputation had already been tarnished by –“

“I’ll double it if you leave. Immediately.”

Jun stalls. He tilts away from the book and matches Min’s glare with fire of his own. “Is there a style of teaching you _prefer_ , young lord?” Jun offers with as little bite he can restrain. Although he’s never tutored anyone, Jun knows his lecture isn’t the cause for contention. “I’m open to any necessary adjustments.”

“None at all.” Min smiles. Were there any honesty to be found, it might be handsome. “I’m sure you’re a fine tutor with all your…literature and such, but I’m not the student you’re looking for.”

Jun frowns, puzzled. “But…but you’re Min. You’re inheriting leadership of this clan, aren’t you?”

“I am Min, but I’m no leader.” Min jumps to his feet, dusts his trousers clean. “An understandable mistake, my friend. I won’t hold you accountable, worry not. I’ll leave first.”

“W-wait just a moment!” With his robe bundled around him, Jun can’t stand quickly enough without fumbling. The sun has barely moved since he started the lesson, high in the sky and golden through window. The villagers still tend to the terraced fields. “We’ve an important schedule to follow. We’ve yet to cover a single book!”

His appeal does no good. Min is already hastening for the doorway and waving over his shoulder. “I’m sure the lecture will go smoothly without me. You have my faith!”

Min escapes and Jun is alone. He sinks to the floor, discouraged but not defeated. He prepared for too long, months spent idle in the care of the village waiting for this opportunity, even longer spent researching the history of the Sky Dragon. The fruits of his efforts are nearly ripe.

A shimmering from the corner of his eye catches Jun’s attention. The orb Min left behind sits on the table capturing rays of the sun. Jun picks it up and turns it over in the light. It’ss pure amber covered in thick glass, and petrified within the amber is a small butterfly. Its wings are spread wide in the beginning of flight, but it doesn’t move.

While not an expensive treasure, Jun imagines it holds some significance for Min to favor it so. The orb is a starting point, if nothing more.

“Perhaps…I should rethink my approach.”

 

 

The following day, Kun assures Jun there won’t be a repeat of yesterday’s abridged lesson as he leads Jun to Min’s quarters. Somehow, Jun doesn’t believe Min agreed to that term.

“Please, _please_ don’t think ill of him. I’m sure he didn’t realize how his behavior might be taken,” Kun explains. He seems frazzled, wringing hands and tight grimaces. He’s afraid another tutor will fall through. “Once he warms up to you, the young lord is really very gentle, I swear it! If you’ll just give him a bit more time…”

Jun lays a hand on Kun’s elbow to stop his fidgeting. He wears a grin filled with confidence on his lips. “Worry not. I’m a little more stubborn than you’d think.”

Kun is more relaxed as he parts from Jun’s side, leaving him at Min’s quarters. When Jun enters, he immediately notices the change in Min’s demeanor – the removed Min from yesterday is brimming with belligerence today. His copper eyebrows are drawn, he’s combing the knots from his high ponytail, the veins in his hand are prominent from the pressure around the amber orb. The reprimand from Kun must be a fresh wound.

As intimidating as an irritated dragon should be, Jun has worse to fear. He sits just as he did before, his collection of books beside him and a pleasant tilt to his mouth. “I hope you’re faring well this afternoon.”

Min greets him in turn, though only a coarse grunt. A compromise Jun can accept.

Without Min’s quarrelsome interruptions, the lesson flows through the first and second of the prime minister’s records. Min offers him little attention, nothing more than the occasional timely groan while Jun waxes theatric on the power struggle between the First King’s successors, the invasion of a foreign state and subsequent mass devastation of essential farmland, the Sky Dragon’s rise in influence and abrupt disappearance.

Jun, an outsider, memorized the events only as the means to an end, yet he absorbed them with enthusiasm and respect. The inheritor of the clan, the one chosen by the Sky Dragon’s blood, couldn’t be more overt with his disinterest. There’s an important detail of the picture Jun isn’t grasping.

“That concludes Minister Zonghu’s accounts. Are there any points you’d like to discuss? Anything I should clarify?” Jun asks, his smile encouraging though silence will be his answer.

Min’s chin is cradled in the dip of his palm, his bright eyes reflect the blue sky through the open window. He gives a small shake of his head, the most he’s moved since the lesson began.

Jun nods and takes a thin box, fragrant hand-carved rosewood, from the fold of his robe. There are two lengths of fine silk inside, black ink illustrations depicting the Five Dragons of Great Power. They’re luxurious pieces Jun would rather keep hidden, but he has hope of catching Min’s attention today.

He sets the box on the table and fists in his hands over his lap. His throat clears delicately before he speaks. “Could…could I perhaps pose a question?” Min meets Jun’s stare from the corner of his eye and huffs through his nostrils. Jun takes it as assent and waves his hand to Min’s orb. “I’ve never seen amber cut in this fashion. A keepsake?”

After another grunt, Min turns full-body to face him. He peers at Jun under low lids, either curious or doubting. Jun straightens his posture, looks the part of the trustworthy acquaintance he isn’t.

“You’re a learned fellow, Jun. You know how the Sky Dragon’s blessings manifest in our village, don’t you?”

Jun nods, uncertain of why Min is testing his knowledge. “…yes. When the material form of the previous inheritor returns to the earth, its blessings are passed on to the Sky Dragon’s descendants, the villagers. Those who bear proof of their lineage, impenetrable armor of the purest silver, are accepted as kinsmen of this clan. A single descendant is chosen by the Sky Dragon’s spirit as the succeeding inheritor – the only descendant capable of taking the Sky Dragon’s pure form. Only they are blessed with both armor and peerless sight.”

He asked, yet the stern set of Min’s jaw isn’t impressed with Jun’s response. “So then, you understand the inheritor – _me_ – had no choice in said inheritance, yes?”

Again, more slowly, Jun nods. “Yes, I…suppose I do.”

The glass shell of the amber orb raps the table surface as Min’s hand fidgets, agitated. “Imagine me, a young lad not even fourteen summers, being saddled with the future of this entire village. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Me, who’d always dreamt of leaving this fanatical sheep’s herd of a village at moment’s notice. Why is that?”

He brandishes his orb, fingers clenching. The sunlight paints the table with the butterfly’s shadow. “I like to _see_ , Jun. I’m sure Kun omitted that. I enjoy new sights, new flavors, new aches and pains, _not_ giving my youth the spirits.  Maybe I would’ve taken up the sword, sailed the ocean, charted new land, I don’t know. I would’ve _lived_ as I saw fit. Freely. With no shepherd at my reins.”

Min laughs with shaking shoulders and bright teeth, full of resigned bitterness. “I-I don’t have the option of leaving the village now, you know. These eyes…these eyes are the brand of a monster to the outside world. And the ones here, my _people_ and my _clan_ , they think me some sort of deity. I’m not Min, Min’er any longer. I’m the young lord! The one chosen by the holiest of holy dragons!” He pauses to cluck his tongue. “I set fire to my family’s granary once, the year prior. Intentionally. Was I punished for it?”

Jun frowns. “I should hope so.”

Min shakes his head. “Nothing. Not a word of scolding. No additional chores. They _thanked_ me, my very own parents. For granting them with a trial from the heavens. Have you ever heard something so absurd? I thought I’d go mad at that very moment, but then, if I lost myself, who would be left to remember…me?”

A deep-seated sigh leaves Min’s parted lips and he hunches, basking in silence as Jun studies his quarters, capturing what he hadn’t in their last meeting. There are two pedestals in front of a wide column, incense burning on either side vase holding the severed branch of a plum tree. The bed in the corner is raised on platform, tidied by a meticulous hand and covered in fur blankets.

All around Jun is barren, without character or the warmth of home. He would wager Min doesn’t stay when he can avoid it.

He considers this as he gathers his thoughts. “Perhaps it isn’t…my place to say, but, um. If it’s any consolation, burning down that storehouse _was_ incredibly dimwitted of you.”

Min blinks twice. “An inappropriate time for joking, isn’t it?”

“That wasn’t in jest.”

It’s the barest quirk of his mouth, but Jun doesn’t mistake it. Min is smiling, weak yet genuine. “So, I haven’t fully lost my sanity then. Thank you, Jun.”

Were Jun to linger overly long on that smile, he might forget why he sits here, why he has no right to accept Min’s gratitude. He lowers his gaze and traps a long strand of dark hair behind his ear. “An odd thing to show gratitude for.”

Min hums, not agreement nor denial. He places the amber orb on the table and rolls it toward Jun. “It’s a gift from my grandmother and predecessor.”

The orb dallies at the table’s edge and tips into Jun’s lap. “Is it – is it precious to you?”

“I suppose.” Min shrugs. “We weren’t close. She was always either a leader or a dragon’s vessel.”

Jun grabs the orb and returns it to Min. It isn’t what he’s searching for.

“And you?” Min’s arms fold over his chest. He scrutinizes Jun with a thick eyebrow. “Outsiders don’t stay overlong in this village. Your situation isn’t ordinary, I take it.”

“It’s no grand tale.” Jun folds his sleeve to expose the ghastly scar running the length of his forearm. Min doesn’t cover his wince. “I was attacked by bandits while passing through the eastern forest. I might’ve met my end there had your village not come to my aid.” It’s the same lie he told months ago, when he’d paid a beggar to rough him up and sliced his own arm. “I’m sure I’ve expended my welcome, but…I’ve nowhere to go for the time being.”

“Hm? What of your family?”

Jun should expect this question by now, after this long. His answer comes gentle. “I’m alone.”

Min doesn’t press for more, but the curiosity is clear on his face – and pity, of course. There’s always pity.

“I think we’ve covered enough today,” Jun decides. He tucks the rosewood box into his robe, gathers his books in a teetering heap as he stands. His chest burns hot and his grip is white-knuckled. “I’ll be leaving first.”

He bows his head and turns to leave. Min’s call stills him. “Tomorrow, then.”

Min is staring at him, patiently. Without Jun realizing, the fissure between them narrowed just the slightest. Jun nods. “Yes, of course. Tomorrow.”

The air outside is damp with the onset of summer rainfall, a thick swelling in Jun’s lungs, but he takes it in ravenously. The curtain of his hair hides his face as he wanders the village streets – his presence went ignored in the past, but being in contact with the Sky Dragon gives him unwelcomed recognition. The old woman is gone when he stumbles inside her home, and he’s grateful.

He _needs_ this time to himself, huddled in the corner and swathed in darkness. From dawn to dusk his tongue is drenched in lies, beguiling the innocent people around him, but the shadows know the truth and ease his weary heart. More than ever, with Min’s affable smile threatening his resolve, Jun needs to remind himself of why he’s done all this.

He clasps his hands together, cuts his fingernails into his skin, and whispers against his thumbs, “I won’t forget you. Please…please wait for me.”

 

 

 

“What would you do? If you were me?”

Jun glances at Min over the top of his illustration. Min insisted on a change of scenery to “aid the flow of information,” and Jun agreed knowing he would have no more of Min’s attention than usual.

The southern balcony overlooks a lush garden of vibrant orchids, protected by the majesty of the high mountain peak. The young kinswomen tending to the garden jabber and pluck more than work, filling their hair with bashful violets and seductive reds. Jun can observe from the corner of his eye where he’s seated on an armchair. Min is spread on his back on the floor, bathing in the faithful sunlight. His tied-off hair sneaks between the wood posts of the rail and plays in the wind.

“If I were you?” Jun taps his thumb to his chin and pretends to ponder. “If I were you…I wouldn’t have to jump to eat from an apple tree.”

Min’s glare is unamused. Jun covers his laughter behind his sleeve. “Be serious.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Min’s chest falls heavily. “I train in the evenings to better control this dragon in me. Kun tells me I’m progressing well, that our peoples’ future will be safe in my hands. I imagine he thinks it encouraging.”

In the scant time Jun has spent in his presence, Kun has never emanated anything other unyielding optimism. Jun can imagine how exhausting it could be in excess. He considers Min’s question sincerely.

“I believe, as a leader, it would be selfish to betray the faith placed in me. Though not by choice, I’ve been given an opportunity to change my peoples’ lives for the better, one that many others would have accepted with pride. Squandering that would be irresponsible.”

Min waits unblinking for Jun to continue. Jun isn’t brave enough to meet his eyes.

“I also believe…a life not lived for oneself isn’t a life worth living at all. We’re born humans after all, not martyrs. We’re entitled to our selfish nature. If my heart doesn’t truly stand where I am, then I’m no more than a caged bird, iron bars or no. And I’ve no fondness for small spaces.”

After he’s thought on Jun’s response, Min snorts and tells him, “I’ve never heard such a brilliantly useless answer.”

Jun tilts his head. “I’m a historian, not a philosopher.”

“That you are.”

“If that’s all, then we can continue.” Jun raises the illustration of the five dragons under his eyes. Wind tickles the corners of the silk. “Recite them in order of birth, please.”

Min grumbles and rolls away. “Does that mouth of yours know no mercy?”

“Once is all I ask.”

“I’ve listed them _several_ times now!”

“Not in the precise order!”

Min releases a garbled stream of noise and faces Jun, lazily pointing to the dragons. “The Verdant Dragon, born of wood. The Dragon of Searing Flames, born of fire. The Sky Dragon,” he touches his own chest, “born of light. The – ehm, the Three…Eyed…Mushroom –?“

“Three-headed _Maelstrom_ ,” Jun corrects. “Must I keep going over this?”

“Oh, Jun,” Min says wistfully and cuddles his hands to his chest. Jun preemptively rolls his eyes. “You do serenade me so sweetly!”

“Min, take this lesson with seriousness,” Jun cautions as he refolds the silk. “The Verdant Dragon hasn’t been seen in one hundred years. It’s told that its pure form was found with a sword staking its heart, yet its descendants received no blessings.”

Min lifts his arm and skates his fingers over his scales. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but these scales _are_ impenetrable. My flesh fears no blade.”

“Not your flesh, your _heart_.” When Min doesn’t appear to understand, Jun continues. “A dragon in its pure form cannot be harmed by ordinary means, but when that which it treasures most is compromised, it bears its heart.”

“How poetic,” Min drawls.

Jun rightfully ignores him. “If the succession of inheritors was cut short, the spirit of the Verdant Dragon itself may have returned to the earth with the inheritor.”

“Felled by a mere sword? Unlikely,” Min declares without concern. “Unless those books of yours are filled with fairytales, the Dragon of Searing Flames has seen countless skirmishes with humans. Were a sword the solution, its spirit wouldn’t have seen a year.”

“Metal _is_ the opposition to wood,” Jun reminds him. “A sword is nothing against flames, but it triumphs over wood. While not absolute, it stands to reason water would similarly slay the Dragon of Searing Flames. Just as air would the Stone and Miter Dragon –“

“And darkness the Sky Dragon.”

With new perspective, Min studies the length of his arm. The silver scales soak in the sunlight and glow in its splendor. “Interesting theory. And here I thought the hourglass to be my only weakness.”

Jun watches the kinswomen below, afraid his countenance will show restlessness. “Even the highest mountain can be whittled away by the enduring stream. It’s important…,” Jun pauses for a steadying breath, “that you discover what it is your heart treasures most. Before it can be turned against you.”

Min keeps silent a while and Jun does as well. “I own no trinket of such value,” Min eventually shares.

Jun shakes his head. He comes across eager, yet he can’t seem to stay his mouth. “Not necessarily an object. A person, a place, an ideal – a dragon’s heart bears no prejudice, so history says. I’m certain if you were to think on it –”

“What is it your heart holds dear?”

Jun’s focus darts back to Min. “Ah? My heart?”

Min’s eyes are shut, face devoid of tells. He’s skilled at concealing himself. “Not a simple question to answer, is it?”

There’s no contemplation needed for Jun. He feels gangling arms embrace tight around his shoulders, hears laughter, healthy and deep. Two years is no more than an instant. “Yes, you’re right. I suppose it isn’t.”

“If not that, indulge my curiosity in another matter.” Min rises from the floor to sit with legs crossed. His eyes slide open, a green more piercing than the sharpest arrow, and pin Jun to his seat. “What is your interest in the dragons, Jun?”

As he had the day they met, Jun covers his heart without thought. Min’s gaze doesn’t falter. “Why ask that? Is – is it so strange?”

“Perhaps not.” Min shrugs. “You must admit, a lad only sixteen summers with such dedicated knowledge of the spirits isn’t commonplace. Surely _some_ thing sparked your interest.”

Jun forces an uncomfortable laugh, shifts in his seat. His hands fold in his lap to stave off tremors. “Does an astrologer need a reason to study the stars? An herbalist to study plants? It’s simply my passion. Nothing more.”

Time passes with unmerciful leisure as Min studies him, Jun edges close to breaking. Honing the art of deceit is nothing against the unraveling intensity of Min’s eyes. Perspiration flecks Jun’s forehead, his stomach tightens with anxiety. He’s given _too much_ to fall now.

Min turns toward the mountainside, and Jun can move again. “I see. So then, you’re passionate about me.”

Jun’s brow wrinkles. “I beg your pardon?”

The grin Min flashes is smug. “Your words, Jun. Your passion is dragons. _I_ am a dragon. Therefore, your passion is me, yes?”

Jun is understandably caught off guard and sputters, cheeks colored rosy, “I – well, in a _sense_ , yes, but – I think you misunderstood what I was –”

“Oh, I understood _perfectly_.” Min stands and swipes the dust from his trouser legs. “And for the record, I’m flattered.”

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Jun accuses as Min saunters inside the manor, a coy strand of hair twisted around his finger. “I mean it!”

It takes a shameful few moments alone for Jun to realize he’s been had. He hops out of his chair in outrage.

“Wait! We still have material to cover! Get back here at once!”

 

 

 

Discovering the treasure of Min’s heart dominates Jun’s thoughts through the greater half of their lessons, though he abstains from mentioning it. He evaded Min’s suspicion once, but there’s no telling how his tongue will behave under the pressure of the Sky Dragon’s eyes again. Frustratingly, Min doesn’t speak of it either, as if their conversation hadn’t happened, and Jun is left waiting.

Some days, though, Jun doesn’t think of the treasure at all. Those are the most damning.

Either natural born or a hidden blessing of his inheritance, Min has a talent for distracting Jun from his duties, his worries. It’s more common than not their lectures devolve into idle banter and innocent teasing – often at Jun’s expense. He’s never experienced being flustered, irritated, confused, and so amused his sides ache in such short succession, but with Min it becomes a daily routine.

 _Everything_ with Min is a new adventure. The accompanying delirium is too enticing to refuse.

“You can _not_ be serious.” Min rewraps the scroll in his hand and tosses it with the others collected on his bed. “ _This_ is how you choose to throw away your leisure time? More books?”

His disgust is unfettered. Jun, defensive, cradles his books to his chest. “Are you truly criticizing me for _reading_ of all things?”

At Min’s behest, Jun brought to the manor what he considered entertainment, literature written for pleasure rather purpose. He sits at the edge of Min’s bed while Min, legs folded at the head-end and muddied soles soiling the bedspread, picks through the pile. From Min’s flat expression, he clearly expected to see a more exciting pastime.

“Yes, and I do so without remorse,” Min declares and casts another baleful glance to Jun’s collection. “It’s criminal that I’ve yet to see you do anything _except_ read. Even Kun, the dullest man to walk the earth, practices archery as a hobby.”

“You’re too much. Your retainer isn’t so bad.”

“Oh, oh heavens, it’s worse than I’d thought!”

The fire in Jun’s scowl doesn’t set Min alight no matter how fervently he wills it. “You’re being unfair. Fables can be exciting if you give them a chance! See, this one here is about a young white hippopotamus with a penchant for –“

Min gently takes the scroll from Jun’s hands and sets it aside. He shakes his head. “No more, Jun. Please. No more.”

Jun huffs. “Well – well what do _you_ consider a worthy pastime, O exalted one?”

“Hm…music? Dance? Sport? I dabble in all areas. I’m a fair opponent in Kratonian-style palé, if you’d care for a…demonstration.” Min raises a single wicked eyebrow.

Jun squints. “You’re asking me to fight you?”

An amused smirk twists Min’s lips and Jun, not for the first time, is left clueless. “Never mind that. Dancing, then? You can follow a simple rhythm, yes?

Jun’s last memory of dancing was over two years ago, before he was alone. As much as he wants to think on it with fondness, his eyes always seem to burn with unshed tears.

Impressively, he keeps his composure in front of Min. “I’m…capable, yes. But only barely.”

Min visibly brightens. “I shall be the judge of that. Ah, you’ll need music! A moment.”

“I-I didn’t say I’d dance now. Hold on!” Jun panics as Min scrambles off the bed, mussing the spread without care.

Min raises a finger to his lips to motion silence. “This is destiny, dear Jun. I’ll finally have the opportunity to woo you with my _guqin_ prowess.” He flicks his fringe with blatant vanity.

“I highly doubt that,” Jun grouses, but he can’t stay bitter seeing Min prance from the room, plucking at phantom zither strings as he goes.

The uneasiness doesn’t leave Jun fully, but around Min, so unafraid to play the fool and flaunt his faults, Jun is instilled with unfamiliar confidence.

At times, he values himself more when he’s with Min.

“You’re smiling,” Min informs Jun when he returns toting his instrument against his shoulder. The fading finish on the wood speaks of its age, but it’s clearly sturdy. “Make a habit of it.”

“You’re quite demanding. I don’t know if you’ve realized.”

Jun watches Min set a place on the low table, flicking strings experimentally and tuning with a trained ear. Focus sets his face stern and Jun catches himself ogling too keenly. The redness staining his cheeks calms before Min finishes preparing, fortunately.

“There we are!” Min gives Jun a brilliant grin. “Now, what would the gentleman like? Something bold and flirtatious? Docile and tender? Name it.”

Resigned to his fate, Jun stands and moves to the center of the room on sluggish feet. “Bold, I suppose. Um, don’t…don’t expect overly much.”

Min’s grin grows. “I expect everything and more.” His fingertips are poised at the strings in wait.

Jun frowns. “I mean it. It’s been some time and I’m no dance virtuoso. I cannot promise I’ll be –”

“You’ll be perfect.”

The sincerity in Min’s voice is overbearing, Jun turns away before his face heats anew – curse Min and precise timing. Nervousness weighs on his shoulders as Min begins to strum and stroke the strings in a spry tune.

Jun closes his eyes, envisioning a silent dancer in the thick of a faceless crowd. The dancer is tall, lean, elegant hands and nimble feet. He wears a blindfold and loose runs of translucent silk over his shoulder, around his middle and hips. His hair is dark, the same haunting shade of black as Jun’s hair, and woven into a thick braid that glances the dip of his back.

The dancer moves and Jun as well. He rolls his head, splays his fingers through the air just as he remembers – as he was taught. One leg crosses behind the other, he spins and bounces on the tip of his foot, limbs stretched high and low. He’s sloppy, nothing like the dexterous motions of the dancer he’s always emulated, but he doesn’t pause when his socks slip, when his breath comes short. The dancer wouldn’t want him to.

Jun’s hair is undone and pasted to his face when he finishes. The music goes silent and Min is approaching him when he turns.

“Consider me impressed!” Min compliments, a smile splitting his face wide. “I knew you’d be great but – what style was that routine? Northern Xia’s famous winter bell style, I’d wager. Where did you learn it?”

Jun’s gaze lowers to Min’s chest. He inhales until his lungs ache. “From…from my brother, Sicheng.”

“I – _oh_ , I uh – ahem. I didn’t, erm…” Min coughs into fist and glances away, grimacing.

More for Min’s sake than his own, Jun pats Min’s elbow and smiles. “It’s no trouble. Really. I’m glad to share who he really was,” he says and, after so long keeping his memories sealed away, he truly means it.

Relief shows on Min’s face. “Well, he was incredible, as are you. That twirl-hop-kick of yours…” Min attempts a graceless rendition of the move and Jun laughs into his sleeve. “Will you show me?”

“Hm, I suppose I could try.”

Min is a natural, so teaching him _shouldn’t_ be any issue, but Jun hadn’t considered how little space would be between them as he guides Min’s movements. He gets a feel of the modest musculature and rigid scales along Min’s arms, the firm curve of his waist. He fumbles over his instructions and Min, true to character, doesn’t allow him to suffer in peace.

“Oh my, you have such a _pleasing_ touch. Did you know that, Jun? Just the right pressure. A lad could get used to it. Ah! _Jun_ , I had no idea you were the _domineering_ ty – _ack!”_

“Stay silent or I’ll pinch you again.”

The corners of Min’s eyes crinkle and he rumbles with laughter. Jun follows and the lesson ends with them leaning against one another, tears of mirth in their eyes.

A call from outside the room jolts them apart. “Your Lordship? Shall we begin training now?”

Kun parts the bead curtain and glances from Min to Jun. Jun furiously neatens his hair, guilty although he has no reason to be. “Oh, young historian. Has your lecture run long?”

Jun shakes his head wordlessly, fearing his clumsy tongue will give him away. He gathers his books and vacates the room with a cordial nod.

He hears Min’s grumbling as leaves. “ _Must_ you be so painfully punctual, Kun?”

“Eh? Did I interrupt something?”

Alone in the corridor, books crushed against his quaking chest, Jun mirrors the question to himself – _had_ something been interrupted?

 

 

 

Drowsy days and sleepless nights follow Jun while he’s imprisoned in a storm of his own turbulent thoughts.

No matter how numerous his analyses, what perspective he analyzes from, there’s no justification for his recent senseless conduct. He unwittingly wandered from his intended path, forwent his ambitions for the dizzying allure of brief companionship –  and he stresses _brief_ to himself several times, because it’s unreasonable that he’s forgotten his sole reason to draw breath, the reason he’s gone to such lengths at all.

_The dragon’s spirit is a stepping stone. Nothing more._

It echoes in Jun’s ears as he tosses in bed and during his afternoon lectures, a relentless chorus that warbles in his conscience’s timbre, yet it’s so easily muzzled by the stray touches of mischievous hands, smiles that shame the sun, soft taunts that drip with nectar. Never has Jun known someone to be so smothering in presence alone, an ocean drowning a world of duties and worries and promises.

Jun has no paddle to swim to shore, and he unsure he’d use one had he the option.

“Come with me.”

Jun startles out of his stupor, reawakens surrounded by the barren interior of a familiar room. Someone is standing above him, hand outstretched, grin cajoling.

It’s an offer from the single entity Jun _isn’t_ meant to become attached to, the very catalyst of his crumbling resolve. Has he always been so weak?

Jun hesitates, shy at the fingertips, then takes that hand. It tightens around his.

“Where are you taking me?” Jun questions as he’s towed from Min’s quarters and down the stairway. The residents of the manor bow and curtsy as they pass. Their respect is boundless and their curiosity nonexistent, for this scene is commonplace as of late.

“The garden,” Min tells him. He’s taking wide steps as he does when he’s excited rather than keeping pace with Jun’s slower gait. It’s a detail that has no place in Jun’s mind, and yet –

The showers that greeted the morning have dried in the rays of the afternoon sun. Rain-dampened air seeps through Jun’s robes, uncomfortably muggy after only moments. Min, always barefoot and always easy, leads them across the limestone walkway. His steps splash small puddles and soak the hem of Jun’s robes. Jun doesn’t make complaint.

“You have a reason for this sudden excursion, I hope,” he says.

“I do. Kun recommends I visit these flowers more often,” Min explains. They halt ahead of a generous plot of violet and pink orchids. He crouches and plucks one of each color. “Their presence is said to calm one’s stress…and uh, ward off summertime ailments. Personally, I think it’s horse rubbish.”

He tucks the violet orchid behind Jun’s ear, needlessly smoothing Jun’s hair from the stem. Jun doesn’t meet Min’s eyes until he finishes, not with a drumming like thunder in his chest. Min keeps the pink orchid for himself, choosing the ear matching Jun’s. The corners of his lips curl and Jun is entirely helpless.

“You brought me here…for my sake?”

Min nods. “You’ve been troubled these days, therefore I, too, am troubled.” He looks to the mountainside and doesn’t allow Jun his expression. “I won’t…pressure you to share, but I’d prefer your focus be me when we’re together. It’s only proper.”

Jun is entirely, _miserably_ helpless. “You don’t have to worry after me. I can handle myself.”

“Nonsense. You’re either lost in books or lost inside that head of yours.” Min scoffs and leads them ahead. “I’m astonished you’ve survived so long without me.”

“Is that so? And I’m to place my welfare in the hands of someone who refuses to wear shoes?” Jun accuses. Min tosses a vulgar hand gesture over his shoulder and Jun grins.

“You could do worse, I’ll have you know.”

There’s a wide puddle at the turn of the pathway. They bend at the waist to admire the orchids in their reflection. “Ah yes, I see them now. The greatest beauties in all of Xia. Jun, be honest.” The water’s image of Min turns to Jun with a smirk full of cheek. “Which of us eclipses the moon herself?”

Jun rolls his eyes and, beleaguered in tone, answers, “ _Undeniably_ you, Min.” It isn’t untrue and it’s certainly the response Min wants.

Min straightens, lays his hand over his heart and feigns a sigh. “Phew! I thought it tasteless to say myself, but as long as _you_ agree.”

“Ugh, I regret reinforcing your ego.” Jun swipes for Min’s arm.

Min catches him by the wrist. His grasp is yielding, tender, his thumb circles jut of Jun’s wrist bone. Jun makes no move to free himself and Min takes his other wrist as well, holding both between his palms and pressing them to his chest. Jun is tugged a stumbling step forward, forced to crane his neck to see Min.

The proximity between them is overbearing enough, but Min’s eyes are paralyzing. They roam Jun’s face, a luminescent green that drinks without inhibition, sketching the arch of his brow and the bow of lip, the curves of his cheeks and each individual eyelash. Jun feels bare under their intensity, but Min’s hold doesn’t allow him to withdraw.

“Jun.” His name on Min’s tongue holds intolerable warmth. The heat sinks into Jun’s skin and raises gooseflesh over his arms. “Perhaps…p-perhaps this is sudden…”

The blush painting Min’s cheeks is identical in color to the orchid behind ear, his palms are sweltering in couple with the humid air, he licks his dry lips twice more than necessary and – he’s _nervous_. The ever bold and brazen Min is _nervous_. Jun’s eyebrows draw in. “Are you feeling –?”

“Shh. Let me say it,” Min bids him gently. Jun follows, if only out of concern. “I’m…unsure of how to put this into words – I have no idea of what _this_ is, but – it’s an affliction I suffer only when I’m around you. Or…when I’d like to be around you. Or when you’re in my thoughts – you’re a persistent intruder there, you know.”

Jun’s eyes widen.

Min continues after a shuddering breath. “I don’t…don’t consider myself an impulsive fool, nor am I one given to obstinance. Know that I speak with certainty when I say…you are in my heart, Jun. You have been for a long time, though I wanted nothing to do with you in our beginning. Somehow, you’ve become the only one who sees me honestly, the only one I always _want_ to see my honest self. Even when you’re a terrible bore, you manage to incite the greatest life within me and I’ve – I wouldn’t ask for more. I _need_ nothing more.”

His fingers slide, hesitant, from Jun’s wrists to his hands. He lowers his head and speaks with soft lips gracing Jun’s knuckles.

“I would like you to be at my side, and I at yours.”

The confession is met with lasting silence. Jun’s mouth is parted in mute astonishment, his body is petrified to do more than take in shallow breaths.

Min has feelings for him.

Min wants to _be_ with him.

This should be cause for celebration for Jun. It’s what he’s striven for all along, to build trust with Min and learn that which Min’s heart treasures most. Jun would finally be able to give back to his brother.

And yet…

…and yet…

…his stomach flutters hearing the delicate song of Min’s heart. Those eyes, normally so intense, now glazed with patient affection, waiting for him still. Jun aches in his bones to give Min his answer, to throw himself into Min’s arms and veil himself from the world. The thought alone of causing Min harm is worse than _any_ dagger through his flesh and –

– he can’t go through with it.

Jun wrests himself from Min’s grasp and retreats a step. “I…I,” he pants, gaze to the ground to keep his composure from shattering. “I don’t – I have to leave.”

He runs, ducking past Min’s outstretched arm and fleeing into the manor. He hears the desperate shouts of his name, the heavy plod of bare feet behind him. The orchid behind his ear loosens and tumbles to the ground.

Jun’s running start isn’t enough to best Min’s speed. A hand snags his elbow in the manor’s antechamber and halts his escape.  

“A reason,” Min roughly demands. Jun doesn’t face him, fearing the sight of the distress he hears. “ _Please_ , give me a reason. I _know_ you have feelings for me as well and – what is it that holds you back? Is there nothing that can be done? Nothing…nothing I can do?”

The soft plead echoes, more piercing each time Jun hears it. Once his pulse is calm, he asks, “How are you so certain of my feelings?”

“I’ve told you. I’m no fool.”

He isn’t. Jun has always known this. Only one of them has been the fool all this time.

“Min, that treasure of yours…should you find it, always keep it safe. Please?”

The hand restraining Jun tenses, then releases. He leaves without glancing back.

 

 

 

_“He’s there! That way!”_

_“Don’t let him escape!_

_For days, wrathful voices have tracked them from village to village, over steep hills and between the trees. They’re allowed no more than a few hours’ reprieve before the voices find them again, torches and swords scraping at their heels. Stopping isn’t a choice._

_“Over here!”_

_“Leave no stone unturned! Raze the forest if we must!”_

_Jun’s young legs are sluggish with fatigue, his lungs burn and heave for rest, but a solid hand around his wrist keeps him steady when roots snare his ankles and bramble rips through his sleeves. As long as his brother is with him, Jun can muster the strength to keep moving._

_They were warned before they abandoned the conventicle. The necromancers chortled and brayed at Sicheng’s hunger for an ordinary existence, a life lived in the sunlight rather than shrouded in the halls of a derelict temple. They warned him there was no place for a pawn of darkness amongst normal humans, yet Sicheng persisted, carried Jun far north and danced for handouts in the bazaars. The months were rough, but Jun had never seen such contentment on his brother’s countenance._

_Then, a traveler threatened by a pack of wolves begged their aid and Sicheng, frantic, took the shadows under his control. Within the day, the villages turned on them._

_“There! To the east! The sorcerer!”_

_The voices draw near. The trees behind them are alight with torch fire and the long days have sapped their strength to a trickle._

_Suddenly, they pause and Sicheng crouches low. Jun is puzzled when he’s gathered into his brother’s arms, embraced tightly enough to crush. A kiss is pressed to the crown of his head and Sicheng tells him, “Run.”_

_Pain seizes Jun’s chest._

_“Run. Follow the shadows,” Sicheng instructs and rises. His fingernails are darkening and dripping with ink stolen from the night. It coils around his arms affectionately. “They’ll be your guide home.” Back to the conventicle._

_Sicheng is turning away, heading toward the torchlights. Jun steps forward, refusing the idea of leaving Sicheng alone. “B-brother…”_

_“Leave!”_

_Jun hesitates, then dashes away. His vision is clouded with tears and he stumbles again and again, but the voices finally begin to fade._

_When all is silent and he can rest, Jun huddles in the shade of a moonlit tree and shuts his eyes. He can’t manipulate the shadows like the other necromancers, but if he concentrates he can feel the prickle over his skin, the shade weakening as someone nearby drinks from its power._

_It pulses around him and Jun waits, waits, waits until…it stills._

 

 

 

The temple hasn’t changed in the months Jun has been absent. The poorly hinged wooden doors of the southern gate hang open, but a foreboding aura discourages the living from entry in the day. Chilling darkness pervades each hall, the wells in the courtyard are covered in tufts of moss and the stone pathways split by burrowing tree roots. The necromancers take no notice of his arrival. No such camaraderie exists between them.

The eldress of the conventicle awaits him in the great hall, stooped over her gnarled walking staff under the main altar. A lone beeswax candle on the wall stretches her shadow across the wood floor.

Days of restless travel have depleted Jun’s stamina and he collapses on his knees behind her. His hair hangs in unkempt and oily strands over his shoulders and his shoes are muddied from the forest. He left the village without the time for proper preparation. His own wellbeing matters little to him.

He kneels with his head bowed, quiet until the eldress acknowledges his presence. “…you have returned empty-handed, have you?”

Jun doesn’t respond.

“You are aware we have not the strength to reawaken your brother without the dragons’ spirits, hm? The Verdant Dragon alone…will not suffice.”

Jun doesn’t respond.

The eldress’ hunched back shudders with unpleasant wheezing laughter. “Oh my, oh my. It matters not, child. I held little expectation for you in this task. A trial, if you will. In due time.”

“Eldress, I beg you!” Jun’s throat is rough from thirst. “I know I have nothing to offer, b-but I must make another request.”

“How amusing. You return in shame, yet hold your head high enough to beg a kindness?” She shakes her head. “Speak.”

Jun bows until his forehead graces the floor. The scene is reminiscent of when he first received the task of felling the Sky Dragon. “Please, if…if guiding Sicheng’s spirit to the living realm is beyond your power, perhaps you might instead…guide mine to his.”

He remains prostrate while the eldress turns and hobbles near with thumps of her staff. “You wish to return to the earth so soon?”

“I do,” he says without pause. The sole entity tethering him to living realm is the person he’s deceived most. Jun hasn’t the bravery to remove his mask and endure Min’s scorn, not while he can selfishly cherish the feelings Min holds for that mask until the very end.

“Rise.”

Jun sits back on his calves and stares into the unnatural tranquility in the eldress’ expression. Her spindly fingers curl under his chin, the tips of her nails like blades, and she inhales deeply. She’s engaging his spirit, becoming familiar with the taste and texture. It’s an unsettling sensation that can’t possibly be defined.

“Ah…you _have_ met with the Sky Dragon.”

Jun recoils from her touch, astounded. “How…h-how could you possibly know that?” A spirit altering upon contact with a dragon is unheard of, as far as Jun has researched.

The aged lines of her face shape around a cryptic smile. “Yes, yes, I see now. Interesting, how very interesting.” She shuffles for the doors, leaving him baffled. “Come along.”

There isn’t much effort in way of preparation, not for one of meager power. Much of the conventicle is gathered in the centermost hall to observe the eldress performing, all draped in crimson cloaks that hide their appearances. The eldress and three others surround Jun’s kneeling form at four sides, standing outside a circle of blue ashes meant to contain his spirit. The hall is illuminated by rows of white candles flanking the altar and the single black candle held in Jun’s bare hands. He remains stoic even as drippings of scalding wax layer his palm.

“Have you any final words?” the eldress asks. Her brittle voice is a commanding force among them.

Jun shakes his head as best he’s able with the immaterial collar around his neck. One of the necromancers summons it from the floor, a restraint to keep his imminent thrashing to a minimum. Another holds an iron dirk that glints in the candlelight. “None.”

“Have you any regrets?”

A myriad comes to mind – abandoning his brother to be slain alone, deceiving those who’ve shown him only kindness, leaving Min’s confession falsely unreciprocated. He suppresses everything, thinks only of his desire to be reunited with Sicheng. “None.”

The eldress senses his hesitation. Her shrewd eyes narrow. “Speak truthfully. A penitent soul is not so simply unchained from this realm.”

Expressing his heart came easy in Min’s presence, Jun had grown accustomed to it. The conventicle is no home to him, the familiar faces surrounding him are as good as strangers. They aren’t deserving of knowing Sicheng as he truly was, of being regaled with tales of Min’s charms. He struggles for several moments.

His lips part slowly. “Two…two years past –“

_“I-it’s him! It’s the – hrgh!”_

**_“Where is he?!”_ **

The necromancers turn as a limp body crashes through the doors and crumples to the floor. Blinding sunlight suffuses the hall, guarding the features of the silhouette standing imposingly in the doorway. The candle flames flicker in the wind.

Jun guards his eyes until they adjust, then peers over his arm at the intruder.

Fearsome green eyes meet his own.

“It cannot be…” Jun shakes his head in dismay. Min couldn’t possibly have tailed him from the village, but there’s no mistaking the tall figure before him. Jun abandoned the village to _avoid_ bringing harm to Min, he’s nothing against the entirety of the conventicle. “Why…why did you come?!”

The necromancers are stunned motionless by the intrusion. The eldress raises her arms in reverence and chortles. “Ah, ahaha…could it be? The exalted Sky Dragon before my very eyes? You have come to observe, have you?”

Their words don’t reach Min. The blaze behind his gaze seethes to the surface the longer he takes in Jun’s condition, chained and under threat of a dagger. His fingers curl into shaking fists, his mouth bares a vicious snarl, and his scales drink in the glowing sunlight. Soon, the light veils him as his body writhes and grows, expanding until the doorframe splinters around him. He rises and spears through the ceiling, breaking the stability of the temple.

Jun has never witnessed the fruits of Min’s training before now. The temple shudders as slabs of the roof crumble and collapse around him, the conventicle cries and scatters in disorder while fallen candles set wooden rubble aflame, yet Jun is paralyzed at the majestic vision of the immense silver dragon swimming the sky.

Illustrations are nothing compared to reality. The sharp fins along its back and the piscine scales covering its underbelly are the shade of the sea, its thick mane that of snow. Its sheer size is reason enough to flee, but when it descends and allows Jun a look into its eyes, Jun understands he has nothing to fear – from Mn, at the least.

A shine catches his eye as Min flies overhead, a luminescent sphere in the center of Min’s chest.

His blood becomes ice in his veins. The candle in his hand tumbles to floor. “Min. Min!”

“There!” the eldress commands. Her legs are trapped under rubble yet still she demands the attention of the few remaining necromancers. “Th-the heart! Destroy the heart!”

“No!” Jun tries to stand, but the collar around his throat is unrelenting. The necromancer restraining him hasn’t fled. “Min! If you understand me, you _must_ leave! Please!”

The necromancers steal from the shadows and forge javelins in their hands, hurling them through the air. Min curls protectively and the javelins impact his flank, scorching his scales with malevolence.

In retaliation, Min opens his maw wide, long whiskers billowing as the back of throat fills with concentrated light. It releases in a stream, razing the floor and striking a necromancer. Jun shields his eyes from the debris and when he uncovers them, only a cloak remains.

Helpless, Jun watches as Min purges the necromancers one by one, tugging at his collar and shrieking until his voice is hoarse. Min’s sight is impaired by the plumes of smoke, too many javelins strike his chest and sear the flesh beneath his scales. His heartrending roars of pain fills Jun’s ears, yet he refuses to yield.

The encroaching flames take the eldress and the single necromancer holding the chain of Jun’s collar remains. They launch a final javelin just as light shoots from Min’s mouth. The collar vanishes in wisps of shadow and Jun nearly sighs his relief until a thunderous howl shatters the skies.

A single fracture runs through Min’s heart, pierced through by the javelin.

Pain seizes Jun’s chest. “No...no no no _no._ ”

Min’s body overturns and plummets from the sky, slowly until his pure form fades then a sharp descent. Jun scrambles to his feet, coughing through the haze of smoke and sprinting to catch Min against his chest. They topple to the floor, Jun cushioning the back of Min’s head on his arm.

“Wh-why?” Jun’s whisper is barely heard over the smoldering flames. Min’s eyes are wide yet unseeing, his chest heaves with labored breaths. The shadowed javelin is lodged in the center of his chest, no blood leaks from the wound. Jun fears this most. “Why are you here? Why did you follow me?! You _knew_ I was dishonest, y-you shouldn’t – _why?!_ I never wanted to…to…!”

Jun’s arms tremble around Min as his questions devolve to wracked sobs, teardrops spilling down his ruddy cheeks and spotting Min’s shirts. He recalls the same sunken sensation in the well of his stomach from two years ago, the crushing weight of failure and loneliness. Again, he was useless to protect the one most important to him and again, he yearns to suffer in their stead.

“J…J…Jun…” The rasp of Min’s voice breaks Jun from his misery. Min’s eyelids droop, each intake of air a tremendous effort. His fingers tick weakly against the floor. “Jun…y…you… _hgh!_ ”

He coughs and a familiar substance dribbles from the corner of his mouth. Shadow, black ink poisoning Min’s body and the Sky Dragon’s spirit.

Jun tightens his fists, clenches his reddened eyes shut. He _refuses_ to sit idle anymore.

He rouses all the pitiful strength in his being, the necromancy he’s never had the talent to master, the graces of his brother, and takes hold of the javelin. It’s frigid to the touch. “I-I cannot save you, my dear Min, but…but I will _not_ let them use you.”

The javelin pulses as Jun soaks it into his palms, draining the darkness into his body. His spirit, already born of shadow, overflows and seeps into his flesh. Boils swell and fester over his hands, phantom lacerations spiral up to his shoulders and rip through his sleeves, he bleeds venom that singes Min’s clothes with every drop. The whites of his eyes swim with venom until they’re pitch black, his vision destroyed.

The pain is excruciating, but Jun doesn’t rest until shadow leaking from Min’s lips recedes, until the luminescence returns to Min’s fractured heart. The javelin wanes and dissipates from his mutilated fingers.

Only when the dragon’s spirit is safe does Jun allow his body to fall over Min’s, chests close. The beatings of their heart dwindle as the flames swallow them whole.

 

**●●●**

**Author's Note:**

> Most unanswered questions will (hopefully) be answered in following installments of this series.
> 
> Feel free to curse me out here (if 18+) [@twt](https://twitter.com/reinefleche)


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